Ginny, Warrior Princess
by IRiSEaGLes
Summary: Written for the International Wizarding School Championship 2019. Harry Potter landed himself in St Mungo's, again. He is under the influence of numerous potions, and a truth comes out - one that only comes out under the influence.


School: Hogwarts

Year 6

Prompt: [Setting] St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries  
Additional Prompt given by team: Hinny

Word Count 1858

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_Also Known As: The Truth In the Potions_

"What did you do this time, Harry James Potter?" Her piercing voice rang through the halls silencing the normally bustling and boisterous hallways of Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

Whenever she whirled into the hospital, which was all too often, with our two young boys in toe, she looked and sounded like a Howler personified. It isn't that I don't love the woman, it's just whenever I end up here, I feel like it's her mother coming at me like she did Bellatrix Lestrange during the Battle of Hogwarts. Every cylinder is firing at full blast, or full-throttle as the Muggles would say; it's dangerous yet enthralling. Passion in high heels, and it is all directed at me, again.

Her long red hair may be tied back, our youngest seems to grab at it all too often for her liking, but as she flies into the hospital, it looks more like flames shooting out from her head. Her brown eyes, usually that remind me of soft leather or a warm bourbon, now look hard as stones as they pierce me like the Gryffindor sword that I know she would gladly run through me.

If I am honest with myself, I think this time she would, if she were given the option and had the sword in hand.

It wasn't my fault, at least I will claim it isn't my fault if only to save my life. It sounds all too Slytherin when I think of it like that, but the look on her face tells me I had better have a very viable excuse as to why I am lying in this hospital bed, highly dosed on pain potions and multiple healing draughts. I can't even justify this with work. Nope, it was simple ego gone awry, and I pray to Merlin that no one tells my wife.

I won't blame it on the firewhiskey either. I have no one to blame but myself, but please don't tell the red hurricane standing in front of me with her arms crossed over her heavily heaving chest. It really just was the inter-departmental Quidditch match, the match just happened to come after a long, hard work week at the Ministry; add a bunch of male egos inflamed by alcohol and hey-presto chango, here I lay faster than you can catch the Quaffle.

That is the truth, but the story that I will spin will be something else altogether. Especially considering the witch that is glaring at me as I lay here was a professional Quidditch player in her own right. How am I going to tell this woman that I was doing something obviously unwarranted, unnecessary, and completely dangerous - well, at least in hindsight?

She deserves some special award. As much as she loves our boys, they are holy terrors that would make Merlin himself question the stability of magic. Their tempers rival my cousin on his worst day, but then their magic will flare in response, and Rowena only knows how our house remains standing. I have no idea how this wonderfully strong woman allowed me to convince her to have another child after we had James. She is a Weasley by birth and a Potter by marriage, and I know that takes a certain level of intestinal fortitude. When that got all mixed in to create James Sirius Potter, you got a cocktail of trouble on two legs. Even as an infant he was a terror. I think at least one of her brothers swore off baby duties after watching Ginny try to coax him to sleep.

She was made to grow up at an early age, in the shadow of war like the rest of us, yet she is younger than most of us. She really is an amazing woman, strong, resilient, fierce and I couldn't have done it without her. That may be the pain potions talking though.

Whenever I'm given any of the slightly stronger pain potions, I get somewhat philosophical and misty-eyed according to Ginny. After today's accident, I think they gave me the strongest the hospital had to offer.

"Mrs Potter." My Healer rushed up alongside my bed before she could berate me anymore in my condition. "Your husband had a very bad fall from his broom. From the description that we were given; 'he bounced around in a tree like a . . . '" He looked down on his clipboard before nodding and continuing slowly, "'. . . Rubber ball'."

"Harry, you didn't," she said in a shriller version of her normal voice, now laced with a mix of condescending and disappointment. I think I finally did it, I may have broken her. "I guess I will be sending the boys to the Burrow. I can't take care of an invalid and them at the same time. How Mum did it, I will never know."

"Call her Saint Molly," I slur.

I didn't realize the potions were so strong this time. I don't think I need to know the full extent of my injuries, and that's just based on the floating feeling I am experiencing at this moment.

"Yes, Harry, we do. Every time you land yourself in here, in one state of brokenness or another, and I have to send the boys to her, she deserves another Order of Merlin - first bloody class!" Now she's reprimanding me in a sickly sweet tone. Watching this fireball of a woman go through the rainbow of emotions while I float here in the hospital is awe inspiring.

"Ginny, love, did you watch the telly program at the Burrow on Sunday?" I don't know why my mind is drifting to that particular memory. "The one where the Greek mythological princess?" that was hard to get out in my state - at least I think what I said was somewhat understandable. My eyes are feeling heavy, and my words are harder to get out. "She took on the all the armies and all those creatures? She reminds me of you. I remember you at the Battle…"

The next time my eyes opened, she was sitting there alone her head resting on the bed next to me. The boys must have gone to the Burrow, otherwise they would be running up and down the hallways, driving all the hospital employees to the brink of insanity. I try to see the time, but even the slightest movement causes pain to shoot through my body like lightning. I have been through worse, between life and death, in the war and with my job as an Auror. This is just a middle of the road level of pain - a seven or eight on a scale of ten. James heading me in the groin at a full-on run two weeks ago was a solid eight for about three hours. I was instantly on the ground tears filling my eyes as a house full of friends and family watched in amusement.

Then too Ginny just handed off our demonic spawn to another person, I think it was her brother George, and levitated me to the bedroom without blinking twice. It was the last time I was philosophical with her. I would come up with a plethora of visuals and fluff that no man would use without a heavy dosing of potions.

As I watch her now, sleeping based on her gentle breathing, it hits me that I don't thank her enough for all she does - for me, for the boys, for her family, and for the Wizarding World in general. I fell in love and married a true warrior princess. She makes the telly program - as ridiculous as it was, with their Muggle interpretation of what we know as truly vicious creatures - look tame. She had taken on so much more, and at such a young age; even today she fights still, if in her own way.

I reminisce over the life that we have shared; since she was ten years old and had a crush on me. Our lives have not been picture perfect; she was possessed; I broke it off at one point, just to save her; we fought each other; we fought together; we survived, but at one point we didn't even do that - technically speaking. I watched her as we were married, the beauty that the woman before me possesses, to this day, is equaled to that of any princess in any Muggle tale. I watched her as she carried our boys with grace, even when she was so miserable and could barely waddle around the house. I see her age, but that only makes her more beautiful in my eyes because of all the moments we have shared together as a family.

I continue to think about all the love I have for the woman before me, how lucky I am to call her mine - though never will I say it aloud, I appreciate having all of my body parts in one piece. She would call me soft, or even a Hufflepuff, if I did say any of these things aloud. Well, at least if I ever deemed to say it in front of anyone in her family. Merlin help me if George or Ron hears me swoon over their baby sister, no holds will be barred. Bill would probably give me a knowing look. Percy probably wouldn't comment either way. Charlie though, well he'd probably use me as dragon bait.

I don't hear the Healer enter, tray of potions in hand. "Mister Potter," the older wizard says quietly so not to wake my wife hopefully, "you'll only be here for a more few days, three at most. If you want, your wife can stay here with you. You know we can transform the chair into a couch or at least a more comfortable chair if you wish?"

I nod my ascent as I look down at the multitude of potions before me, various colors swirling around in their small bottles. "One of these isn't Veritaserum is it?"

The Healer chuckles and shakes his head as he explains my potions regiment for the next few days - two separate pain potions; a bone regrowth potion; a strong blood replenishment potion, and that is where I lost track. It must have been a serious fall to justify all these, but I don't remember much about it. The Healer also said something about a serious concussion, which is the reason I have been made to stay in the hospital instead of recuperating at home or at the Burrow under my mother-in-law's mothering.

I thoroughly study each of the potions as they are given to me, because it is only under Veritaserum that I would state how much the witch before me really has given for me - even if I only say it to myself. I mentally take note that I need to get her flowers, or a girl's day, just to say 'thank you'. And I should say thank you much more often to this warrior princess before me.

Because the truth really comes out at the lowest of times. And under the influence of potions.


End file.
